Lousy
by vocaloidgirl365
Summary: Romano lives with the guilt of being a 'lousy henchman' and has for years, still experiencing the guilt now. But after one visit to Spain's house and an accidental confession, will Romano finally be able to lift that damn weight above his shoulders? Well one thing's for sure, Spain's not as idiotic as people think. (GerIta is the second chapter. Rated T for 'someone's' foul mouth)
1. Romano's Feelings

"Spain, god dammit! Get your tomato-loving ass over here you fucking bastardo."

"Huh, oh Romano! What are you doing all the way out here?"

_When was it…._

"I got lost in the damn tomato fields. Now take me home dammit I'm hungry!"

"No silly, you're Romano." He chuckled at his stupid little joke as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world.

_…That I started to feel this way about you. _

I know who I am. I am nothing; left to follow blindly behind my brother. I'm like his shadow, they all know I'm there but Italia's existence leaves all to forget me and coo him in love and attention. Nobody cares if a shadow goes missing. Half of us don't even know it's there.

_It couldn't have been when I was a child. Maybe it was. It's been so long, that I can't tell what feeling is real or not._

"Can we just go inside and eat you jackass?"

_You're an idiot_

"Sure my little Romanito. Come now, I've made some paella."

_You're an idiot_

I huffed and folded my arms across my chest, following behind him as we walked, okay, I sulked and he practically flew into the fucking house. I don't know why he's always happy when he has a lousy henchman like me.

_I love you._

* * *

"Spain god dammit! I come all the way over here and you take six hours to answer the fucking door?"

"Sorry Romano, but I was going through my old things. Look," he turned around to give me a full view of what he was currently wearing. More importantly, he was showing off his ass. Now despite the fact I hate this guy, I will admit that he has a very fine ass. "Don't I look good in this?"

"No, you look like you want to get rammed by a damned bull!"

"Well it is a bull fighting outfit. That's almost the point." I sighed while he chuckled. "Can we eat dammit?"

"Ai, si! Of course we can eat. I made paella."

"You always fucking make paella."

"Does my little Romanito not like paella?"

"I do but you have to at least know how to cook some other shit. And let me guess, churros for dessert."

"Wow Roma, you're like a psychic."

"No, I just speak Idiota."

"That's not very nice."

"Oi…." I followed him to the dining room where he sat me down. "Un momento, por favor." He then left; probably to change that stupid ass outfit. I glanced around at his kitchen; not much has changed over the last hundred years. He knew that despite their wars and battles, he still had the little Rooster Clock on his wall from when she was his henchman. If I can count all the henchmen Spain had, I'd need about four hands to do the math. I don't like to dwell on that fact though; it just makes me even more depressed than I already am. It's alright, I'm sure he thinks of me the same way as the rest of them.

"Damn bastard. Why do you always make me feel like shit even when you don't do anything? All that time of holding onto a piece of land that you lost in the end. You're no better than that British asshole and his American on-again-off-again boyfriend." My fists clenched as I pounded the table once, expressing my pain in the least violent way possible. "I already feel like shit because of fucking Italy but now I have to deal with the memory of your empirical demise. Now you're just Spain. Why didn't you just let me go?"

"Because you weren't like them." Whipping my head around, I came face to face with that stupid smile of his. He leaned against the doorframe with a caring smile. I want to slap it off.

"How so bastardo?"

"They were just land. But you-"

"I wasn't _important_ land. I was a waste and you should've gotten rid of me."

"I cared about you too much."

"Well stop fucking caring! I don't need your pity." When had I stood up?

_When had I started crying?_

"I will never stop caring." Growling angrily, I shoved passed him. I don't need this shit right now.

"Stop being thick-headed Romano. Accept the fact that despite 'being in his shadow', you shine brighter than anyone else."

"Don't lie to me dammit!"

"It isn't a lie. Everyone told me that you were useless, that I should've gotten rid of you but I didn't. I cared about you too much to abandon you. You've been kicked around by every country and sure, I may have wanted Italy too at one point. But he was good at cleaning… You kind of just-"

"I tried okay! I just break everything I touch!"

"Even so, that makes you perfect. That makes you who you are. That makes you Romano."

"I wish I wasn't Romano sometimes."

"And I wish that I wasn't Spain sometimes, but we're cursed to live in these immortal bodies of ours."

Why can't you always be an idiot? Why do you always have to make me feel like this? Times when I want to feel numb; to feel absolutely nothing at all and yet, you make me think. Thinking leads to regretting and regretting leads to crying and self-pity. I just want to be freed from this burden.

_I love you._

I took a breath and looked up, only to find a shocked expression on his face. "What bastard?"

"What did you say?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said 'I love you', no?" Did I? I never meant for it to slip out. Oh god, what have I done? What have I started? I probably repulse him; he'd never want to see me again. Maybe-

"I love you too." His arms held me close to his warm body, my own still in shock from what had happened. It was so fast, even Speedy Gonzalez wouldn't be able to catch it.

"What?" I asked dumbly.

"I love you Romano. I love you more than my tomatoes. More than my battle axe. More than my old empire." That last one really hit me. Tears streamed from my face carrying the burden that held me down. Love. This is what I needed. Full, solid proof that I was loved by somebody. I'm sure Itali loved me but he's an idiota so what does he know?

"B-Bastard."

"Please don't cry." I pushed away defensively, "I'm not crying dammit! I got something in my eye." He just laughed as I pouted angrily at him. "Can we just fucking eat your fucking paella?"

"Si! It should still be warm even with all this time. Come, we'll eat outside and rest." He held out his hand for me to take. I grabbed it and pulled him towards me. I then wrapped my arms around his neck and smirked against his lips before kissing him.

His lips were soft and smooth, intoxicating and addicting. They need to make an addiction clinic dedicated to trying to ignore the tentative lure that are his lips. I could feel his tongue slightly poke out, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth to be sucked and teased. I let out a soft gasp followed by a moan. Dammit, why would I give him the satisfaction of hearing my pleasure? It was so embarrassing. I slightly opened my eyes to see his opening a bit as well. The smirk that graced his face literally gave me the "Twitchy Palm" as Mr. Grey had kindly described it. Only instead of smacking ass, I'd leave a nice red mark on his face.

I allowed him entrance through my pearly, white gates, his tongue eagerly darting in to meet with mine. His hands traveled along my sides and across my ass. I really want to hit him now but his tongue is just so distracting. So as payback, I swatted his booty. Only instead of a hurt expression, I got a full out moan. Okay, this isn't going as planned. I'm losing way too quickly.

Pulling apart for air, I gazed into his eyes. Say something sweet, something romantic that'll sweep him off of his feet. I need to knock the wind out of him and make his knees wobbly.

"Bastard." Dear god that was beautiful Romano. Have fun eating alone buddy.

He chuckled and gripped me closer to him, leaning down a bit to whisper in my ear. "I love you too Roma." With a nip on my ear and a kiss to my neck, followed by a light squeeze; he let me go and headed outside with the food. A shiver shot through my spine at all of the thoughts that raced through my mind. Some were romantic like late night walks on the beach and star gazing. Others were wild and sexual; Spain dominating my body as, despite my better judgment, he took complete control of my body. I wouldn't fight back, hell, I'd even think to let him tie or dress me up (as long as it isn't something stupid like a tomato).

"Coming Roma?" Snapping out of my reverie, I sighed and gave out a light chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah. Be patient you fucking bastard."

"Okay, love you!" Heading towards the table, I smiled softly.

"I love you too, il mio unico vero amore."

* * *

So that was my little Spamano fluffy-ness. I decided to take a break from the other one. Anyway, for those who don't get the references.

The Rooster: The rooster was a gift from Portugal, which were on-again-off-again. Meaning, they were under Spain's rule on and off after they had gained their independence. Not sure if it was once or twice but they had been reclaimed again until they finally just shooed them away. Portuguese have this weird fascination with Roosters. It's very symbolic to their culture (Or so my mother had told me).

Twitchy Palm: A reference to whenever Christian Grey from "50 Shades of Grey" had an urge to spank Anastasia.


	2. The True Italy

_**So I wasn't planning on actually writing a second part but then I thought about it. Therefore, enjoy this new story that has to also due with the feeling of being lousy. I'm not that great with capturing Italy's personality so if I messed up, don't get angry. I really wasn't sure about posting this but I liked the idea so I'm posting it. I hope you guys enjoy this.**_

* * *

'Another lap done. Come on Italy, one more! You can do this! Food!' These were the things roaming through my head as I tried to keep myself from collapsing under the crushing weight of exhaustion. I sneaked a peek behind me to see Germany looking angry. Screaming, my speed increased almost two times the usual, allowing me to complete my final lap in an even shorter time than I had previously thought. Germany can be really scary when he's concentrating, and when he's writing. Okay, Ludwig is usually always scary, but he was sweet in a way that nobody else would ever know of. It's just because of me that he's always so angry

I've come to realize that I stress him out. Even when I try to help and cook him pasta he somehow manages to pop a vein. No matter what I do, I just cause him more problems. I can't even protect myself from England and America. Those two didn't even want anything to do with me! It's like I'm a bacteria that they all just pass around. Nobody wants to get stuck with me but Germany will always be the main carrier in the end.

I stirred the pasta around in the pot; cooking always let me clean my head out and focus on the important things in life. As much as I wanted to think about how much of a lousy ally I am, my stomach was killing me from all of that running. I decided I would also make potatoes and wurst for Germany. Sure, he probably wants absolutely nothing to do with me, but I might as well still be nice to him. Being nice and hiding your true feelings allows you to keep moving.

Whenever I'm alone, I cry to myself. Now sure, I've cried to Germany and Japan before but that was out of fear. When on my own, usually in my own room or house, I cry to myself. I cry over my cowardice, I cry over my need to have someone protect me, I cry over the loss of my lover, I cry over my inability to read the atmosphere. I just can't take it anymore. I'm tired of having to drag everyone along with me. A drop sound alerted me to the tears that spilled. Oh dear, it fell into the pasta pot.

Wiping them away, I finished and strained out the pasta. The potato timer and wurst timer all seemed to go off at once and with expertise, I put them all onto plates for cooling. "Ve, this doesn't look too bad. It's a lot of food, but it was a lot of running too. I just hope Germany is Hungary." I giggled at my little joke; I'd have to tell Ms. Hungary that one when I go to visit her and Mr. Austria later. "I should also make some cookies for them; they always loved my pizzelle cookies. It's not hard to make since Belgium helped me."

Grabbing Germany's plate, I walked up the stairs to his study and knocked, pushing the door open slightly with my butt. "Germa- Oh!" I quickly sealed my mouth and placed the plate down on the cabinet top near the door. I grabbed a blanket from his little sofa and wrapped it around him. He must've been tired from exercising. I'm also guessing that he got most of his work done and was able to take a little rest. After looking at all the papers that both fell over and were strewn about, I took back my last notion. It seemed that he had so much work to do; he hasn't been getting much sleep at all! That would explain his recent crankiness and the bags under his eyes. Why hadn't I noticed sooner?

I took his reading glasses off of his face carefully, placing them aside. His blonde hair was covering some of his face, giving him the innocent, disheveled look. I couldn't help but feel this sort of motherly instinct when I was with him. I know I'm a man but spending time with Hungary teaches you to have a gentle hand for things like this. Speaking of hands, my own hand ran through Germany's hair, feeling the soft locks slide between my fingers. My hand then swooped down in a gentle curve, cupping his cheek. I hadn't realized how much he looked like Holy Roman Empire. I wanted to cry at the resemblance. I pulled my hand away and turned around, walking to the door and taking the plates of food and taking them downstairs. I wrapped both up to save for later consumption. I wanted to eat with Germany tonight; therefore he needed to be awake for that.

It was quiet in the house until my cellphone rang. Sighing softly, I answered in, "Ciao, Italy speaking!" I needed to use my cheery voice so nobody would suspect anything. "Who is this?"

"Oi Veneziano! It's Romano. I called to say that I won't be coming home tonight."

"It's okay, I'm not home anyway."

"What in the fucking hell do you mean you're not at home?"

"I'm not. I'm at Germany's-"

"That fucking potato bastard? I swear if he puts his hands on you, I'll-"

"Lovino it fits! Look, I'm a giant tomato!" I laughed at Spain's voice in the background. Big Brother was so funny at random times. I guess I needed this.

"Spain dammit! How did I know you would have a fucking tomato suit in your closet?"

"Awe, but Roma~ It's going to come off anyway~."

"Dammit you fucker, don't say those things." You could practically hear the blush in his voice. Ever since Romano told Spain about his feelings, they've been spending a lot more time together. It's any wonder how Romano hasn't moved in with him yet. Maybe it's because he wants to protect me from Germany. I need to know why he doesn't like him, he's so nice and funny and his voice is thick and deep. His eyes are the prettiest blue; almost like the sky and his skin is really pale and soft. His muscles are so large but they aren't overbearing and-

"-are you even listening to me Italia?"

"Si, I am. I need to go now fratello, I'm going to eat."

"Fine, but call me later. I need to make sure the potato bastard hasn't taken your 'rose' away yet."

"I could say that about you and Spain." He just grumbled a goodbye and hung up. I couldn't stop myself from giggling at what had been going on in the background. Romano was lucky; he had someone to care for him. It was all an accident but either way, whether he showed it or not, Romano was extremely happy. Just as opposite, I'm jealous. I wish I wasn't, but I am and I wish I had the courage to admit it out loud.

But that's just how I am. I'm a coward; I've always been a coward. More tears flowed from my eyes however I couldn't stop them from falling. I kneeled onto the floor and turned so I was sitting on, knees up and back against the cabinet door. I knew I was loved by more people but it doesn't mean that I had it any better than Romano. I was thrown around too, I've been heartbroken.

My hands were soaking wet from the tears. All I wanted was to disappear, to find a deep cave to hide in, in a million years they'll find me. Even then, it won't matter. Everyone would be happy that I'm gone. I sobbed and held my hands to my eyes, all the pain from years of suffering finally being released. But the bar never empties; it just gets larger so I can handle more pain then before.

A large pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders and midsection tentatively, shaking on their own. I looked up to see frigid, blue, German eyes looking at me. "Oh! Germany, I made you dinner." I pulled away and pulled out his food, checking to see if it's warm enough. "A little cold, I'll warm it up."

"Italy-"

"Ve, I think I'm getting better at cooking your type of food." My voice was quivering and I couldn't stop hiccupping long enough to get a word out with ease.

"Italy please-"

"You know, German food is kind of like Italian food, if you squint really hard-"

"Italia!" I looked over to him, heart racing at his harsh tone. "You've been crying."

"Oh? Oh I have. It's okay, not a problem. Ve, everybody cries you know."

"You can't put this off. Why were you crying?" His voice was demanding but it had a hint of caring in there. Maybe he was trying to show me he cared but the German in him was still making him scary. I looked at him then looked to the ground, wanting to cry even more. I'm already weak, this won't hurt my status right?

"Everything," I mumbled.

"What?"

"Everything! Me! I'm crying because of myself. I'm tired of being happy and cheery when I have nothing to be happy about. Romano doesn't want much to do with me, everyone looks at me like extra baggage and I hold you down." His face morphed into one of pity and sadness.

"You don't hold me down Italy. You're my ally, the first friend I ever made. Sure you're not as courageous as the others but look at me. Do you think I can be friends with anybody else? If it weren't for Russia, I'd probably be the scariest nation. But you saw that I'm not always scared and that I'm not a stoic monster. You look at me in a way nobody really does." He gave me a warm smile and I did the same, running over to him and hugging him. It wasn't out of fear or to beg for something but as a thank you.

"Grazie Germany. I needed to hear that." I leaned up and kissed his cheek, smiling happily. His pale cheeks blushed, a hand coming up to cup my cheek. I held my hand against his own, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of his warm hand against my skin. "Germany…" A soft feeling to my lips alerted me of what was happening. My eyes shot open to see him looking at me with unsure curiosity. My eyes fluttered shut and I kissed back, my heart racing and skin becoming sensitive.

I was aware of everything. His hand slid from my face to my sides, skimming his fingers gently across, causing me to shutter and gasp into the kiss. He pulled his lips away and moved them across my jawline and down my neck, the feeling of ecstasy pushing me closer to Germany. "Mmm, Germany." My fingers wound in his hair as his lips attacked my neck. For a tough and rigid instructor, Germany was being extremely gentle and sensitive. It was like he was using his soft lips to take away my problems.

"I love you Italy. I don't want to see you cry like this." He pulled back up to kiss my lips, molding them together as if he were making a piece of art. I felt so light headed and free, like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. His tongue poked through and I eagerly let him in, running mine along his. I let him dominate my mouth, too strained from crying to even attempt a fight back. This is way better than pasta.

This time, I pulled away, blushing and biting my lip. It was then that Germany gave me this look, a weird one. It was almost as if he was lost in another world. "Germany?"

He shook his head a bit, leaning in and whispering into his ear, "I told you I'd come back." (1)

* * *

(1) This is a reference to when HRE told Italy that 'He'd come back to her.' Basically the kiss had awakened his memories of being HRE.


End file.
